heavy down

there is weight
in a fall

it is light-work
to climb

to fly

but in the arc
of a fall
a man grows
heavy

and he thrusts
the wind
and the air
aside

he is the pull
of gravity
gliding
and the lightness
of the top
is forsaken

mass
in free-fall
is him

is
I

a crater waits
still to be made

when he strikes
with his leaden heart
he will become
the hole

he will be what he has made

it is lightwork
to drift up
on a thermal
but a fall
grows heavy
toward the ground

~

Poem #545 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.